Chapter 30
"Raffaele... please," Don Salvatore begged, his aristocratic arrogance completely erased by pure, blinding terror. "You win. The Commission surrenders. We will give you whatever you want."
Raffaele walked slowly across the room, his combat boots crunching over the debris. He stopped inches from the kneeling Don. The bright, tactical flashlight on his weapon illuminated Salvatore's terrified, sweating face.
"I told you," Raffaele whispered, his voice incredibly soft, yet carrying a lethal, apocalyptic promise. "If you sent soldiers into my city, I would erase your name from history."
Raffaele didn't hesitate. He raised his sidearm and pulled the trigger, ending the war permanently.
The flight back to the estate was peaceful. The National Commission was effectively dismantled, the remaining factions terrified into absolute, unconditional submission to the Marconi empire. Raffaele had secured his throne, and more importantly, he had secured his son's future.
When he walked back into the bright, cinematic light of his mansion, the ruins of the foyer had already been swept away. He walked up the grand staircase and pushed open the door to the nursery.
Noah was awake, sitting on his plush rug, playing with his wooden cars. He looked up, his bright blue eyes widening with pure joy. "Daddy!"
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Raffaele stripped off his tactical gear, the terrifying apex predator vanishing instantly. He dropped to his knees, sweeping his three-year-old son into a massive, warm hug.
"I'm here, Noah," Raffaele murmured, burying his face in his son's soft hair, feeling a profound, unshakeable peace settle over his soul. "And nobody is ever going to bother us again." The empire was secure, and the father had won.
